First Encounter
by Cybertronprincess
Summary: "Breakdown," He repeated, rolling the name on his glossa. It must've been colder than his thermometer thought it was; a shiver ran down the Stunticon's spinal column. "An honour, Breakdown. I am Skyquake." For Speedstreek360's birthday. Skyquake/Breakdown.


**For my dear Speedy (Speedstreek360). Her birthday is very soon, and she asked for a fic for her one of her favourite pairings; Skyquake/Breakdown. It's very crack, and that's why it's awesome! She wanted a story on how they first met. I'm not sure how _this_ popped into my mind, but hey, seemed appropriate. **

**Hope you enjoy Speed; peace! **

Breakdown frowned, huddling further into the cushy fabric of the couch. The smell of diesel and high grade stung his olfactory sensor, making it hard to concentrate or look moderately threatening. He looked over at Dead End, who ignored him in favour of reading his data pad. How he's managed to focus on his story for the past five megacycles was beyond him, Breakdown could never really get into a story as much as his brother. Across the table, Drag Strip was sitting pretty, sipping his delicate looking drink, smiling and winking at mechs across the bar. The blue and red mech rolled his optics; anybot who tried approaching the little trollop would be quickly shot down. Drag Strip was just that kind of mech. He could hear Wildrider's cheers across the bar – apparently he was winning that game of poker – while Motormaster was no where to be seen. This slightly worried him.

"He's taking a real long time...!" He piped up, hoping at least one of the two other mechs would answer him. Dead End simply grunted in agreement, but didn't really say much else. Drag Strip turned to face him, offering a half-smirk.

"Y'know how he likes the sound of his own voice." As if he was one to talk. Breakdown nodded, then leant back on the couch. "Getting bored?" The bright yellow mech asked.

"Uh huh... was gonna go pick a fight with Wreckers today, but Mots said no." He grumbled.

"Bummer." He gave Drag Strip a sharp look, but his brother just made that smile again, then took a sip of his dainty drink. "He kept you from getting your head kicked in; he's _such_ a kill-joy!"

"Shut up." His brother just shrugged and turned away, back to his casual flirting with complete strangers. Breakdown huffed, slumping forward until his chin just rested on the table surface. Dead End briefly glanced away from his data pad, then back again, reaching out a servo and patting Breakdown's helm.

"Be patient," He said. "Motormaster will finish his business, then we shall leave. It's simply a matter of forbearance."

"Something you have buckets of, Dents," Breakdown chuckled. "I don't. 'M bored."

"I am sure you are." Dead End retracted his hand, still not looking up. "Why don't you tell yourself a story? It'll help pass the time."

"A story, huh?" He glanced across the bar. What kind of story did Dead End have in mind? Breakdown didn't have much of an imagination when it came to story telling; if he let his mind run away with him, he'd end up scaring himself. Then Motormaster would get angry and things would just go from bad to worse.

Perhaps, he thought, it would be better just to go to sleep.

So he began letting his optics glaze over, slowly drifting into a state of relaxed unawareness, when a cold breeze jolted him awake. The door of the bar swung open wide, letting two large mechs in from the cold. Twins, rather obviously; the only difference between them being their paint job. One was a dark ocean blue with golden trimmings, while the other was forest green and silver.

As they walked in, Breakdown's optics narrowed suspiciously. They kept whispering to each other and looking around. The blue mech seemed rather serious and nervous, while the green looked lazy and good natured. Breakdown stared hard at them, until he suddenly realised the green twin was looking right back at him.

The large Seeker just smiled pleasantly and waved.

Looking away quickly and sitting up straight, Breakdown nudged Dead End urgently. "Do you know those two bots?" His brother looked up irritably, then looked to where Breakdown had briefly pointed with his thumb.

"No," He replied. "Should I?"

"They're pretty handsome," Drag Strip commented, smiling softly. Then, he grimaced as Wildrider skipped over to the table, plonking down into the seat beside him.

"How did it go?" Dead End asked.

"Got sick of it; mech was totally cheating! So I told him where he could stick his chips and came back." The red and black mech grinned, then slumped over the table, looking up at Breakdown. "You look just as bored as I feel!" He chuckled.

"Uh huh," He nodded, then looked across the room again, to where the Seeker twins had sat down at the bar and ordered some drinks. Breakdown's nerves calmed; they didn't seem to be causing trouble, or seem all that interesting really. Got his hopes up for nothing.

Then he noted the green mech was staring at him, still smiling.

"Oi, Breaky; how's come youse face has gone pink?" Wildrider blinked in confusion. Breakdown flinched, knocking Dead End again and earning an irate growl. Cowering accordingly as his brother slammed the pad on the table, Breakdown leaned back as the depressing mechanoid got in his face.

"If you bump me _one. more. time_, I'm going to throttle you!" He snarled testily, stretching out his servos in threat. Breakdown squeaked and nodded swiftly.

"Sorry, Dents!" The nickname had the desired affect; Dead End visibly calmed and composed himself, deciding getting riled up over such a thing wasn't worth it. Breakdown heard a rumbling chuckle, like rolling thunder. He looked up; the green mech had been watching the entire charade.

The youngest Stunticon growled; who did this guy think he was?

"I'm gonna get another drink," He muttered, picking up his empty cube and standing up. "You guys want anything?"

"A Vosian prostitute!" Wildrider replied.

"Some iron filings would be great, Breaky," Drag Strip smiled, patting his blue forearm.

"Nothing for me, thank you." Dead End said, picking up his pad again. Breakdown nodded, then walked towards the bar and pushed between two half-drunken mechs.

"Hey pal; 'Nother mid-grade and some iron filings." He ordered once he had the bar tender's attention. The drone nodded, then began mixing his drink methodically.

"You do not drink heavily, I take it?" Breakdown looked up. Of course, it was the green and silver mech. He narrowed his optics again, then shook his head.

"Not right at the moment, no." He replied.

"Seems sensible," The mech nodded, taking a slug of his rocket fuel. "Are you working at the moment?"

"Kind of." He accepted the drink, then watched the drone hurry through a door to fetch the filings, leaving him open for yet more conversation. "Ain't seen you here before; you new?"

"Here on business," The mech explained. "I only just managed to convince my brother to take a break from working."

"Pfft, don't think anyone could get _my_ big bro to take a load off!"

"Is that right?" The Seeker smiled against the rim of his beaker; it was a nice smile, not condescending like Motormaster's, not insane like Wildrider's, and certainly not the smile of a sadistic little slut like Drag Strip. It was a smile of genuine interest, and Breakdown felt his spark pick up pulses at the sight of it. "I suppose the two of us have that much in common, hm?"

"Uh... erm, I s-suppose so...," He mumbled. The drone came back, placing a container of iron filings on the counter. Yet Breakdown didn't feel inclined to head back to his brothers just yet, he just got the feeling he shouldn't. "Er, so what kind of business are you here for?" He asked.

"The boring kind," The Stunticon's narrowed his optics. "My brother is the brains behind it."

"What, are _you_ the pretty face?" The Seeker barked a laugh at the well-meant joke, where Breakdown was used to having punches thrown at him. Wreckers were so over sensitive.

"Not at all, he's the one always preening!" He pointed towards his twin, who was sitting at a table in the corner of the bar, sipping his drink silently and reading.

Huh, just like Dead End.

Breakdown smiled, looking up at the taller mech with every intention of introducing himself, when there was a muffled roar through the wall behind the bar, then a large crash as the entire thing burst from it's foundations. Everyone at the bar screamed and shouted in surprise; Breakdown flinched, then felt his shoulders being grabbed as the Seeker pulled him into a crouching position, shielding him slightly with his back. "You alright?" He asked, looking down at the Stunticon. Breakdown nodded, then stood up.

He was less surprised than he wished he could've been when Motormaster groaned and rubbed his forehead, shifting around on the bar counter. "What the heck did you say?" He asked accusingly. The lilac and ebony mech squinted, tilting his head back to look at his little brother.

"Insecticons; can't take a joke." He replied wearily.

"You can't _tell_ a joke!" On cue, the signature howl of an Insecticon echoed through the hole Motormaster's head had created in the wall. It ripped the rest of the wall apart, bearing glistening fangs and acid slaver dripping from its maw.

"Criticise my sense of humour later," Motormaster advised. "Run now!" Breakdown jumped away as his brother did a backwards roll off the bar, landing on his pedes. Dead End, Drag Strip and Wildrider ran up towards them, having the entire bar lobbed at them as the Insecticon ripped the counter out of the ground and flung it across the room.

Bots screamed and began clearing out of the bar; Motormaster whirled around, grabbing Drag Strip's wrist and bolting for the back exit. "We're leaving!" He bellowed over the din. Wildrider and Dead End followed suit, as did Breakdown, but the youngest Stunticon suddenly felt clawed talons wrapping around his ankle, pulling him over. He landed flat on his chassis, winding him nastily, then the Insecticon lifted him up, having him dangle in front of its face.

"What are you staring at, bug eyes?" He growled. There was a threatening snarl, and the mech's mandibles spread wide open, letting a plume of foul stench flush over his olfactory sensors.

"Breakdown!" He heard Dead End's voice shout. He gritted his dentals, anticipating the Insecticon biting his head off his shoulders. However, a bar stool was raised, smashing across the large creature's cheek harshly and making it drop the Stunticon in favour of grasping its wounded faceplate. He hit the floor with a grunt, rolling onto all fours to stare at the Insecticon with a puzzled expression. The green Seeker tossed away the remains of the stool, then reached down and grabbed Breakdown's wrist.

"This way!" He shouted, pulling the blue mech to his feet and darting for the fire exit, conveniently leading down a back alley and onto the streets. They ran a few blocks away, then skidded into another back alley, falling to their afts, panting and trying to stay quiet. "I don't think... it followed us." The Seeker wheezed. Breakdown nodded, gasping for intakes. "Are you... damaged?"

"No," He replied tersely. "I've had worse." They sat there in considerable silence, save the occasional vehicle going by on the late night road outside the back street. "... Thanks."

"Not at all," His golden optics turned up, looking at the Seeker without turning his head. He was sitting with his back and wings pressed against the wall, one leg bent at the knee, the other pede sitting underneath it, with his elbow resting on the bent appendage. He was looking straight ahead into some darkened corner, his intakes slowed already to steady cycles of air. He was kinda... cool looking. "I do not believe... I had the pleasure of learning your name, young one." He finally spoke up; whether he was aware he was being stared at remained to be seen.

"... I-I'm Breakdown." He stammered uneasily, optics darting away when the mech looked down at him.

"Breakdown," He repeated, rolling the name on his glossa. It must've been colder than his thermometer thought it was; a shiver ran down the Stunticon's spinal column. "An honour, Breakdown. I am Skyquake." Before he even realised what the Seeker was doing, Skyquake plucked Breakdown's servo into his own, lifting it to his lips and kissing it. Breakdown felt his faceplates heat up, unfamiliar with the sentiment, though he'd seen it before. Bots frequently greeted Drag Strip like this, and he'd seen it in cheesy romance movies all the time. He was big and bulky, never regarded as delicate, so was never treated as pleasantly as his bright yellow sibling.

"Ph-Phweeeee..." Hot air gushed out of his systems, making warnings pop up in his CPU with glaring green lights, reading; **WARNING, EXCESSIVE HEAT LEVELS. TEMPERATURES RISING.**

Skyquake smiled and released his servo, leaning back against the wall. "That mech on the bar, was he your companion?"

"M-m-my stupid, workaholic brother," Breakdown replied shakily. "He was supposed to be recruiting the Insecticons for lord Megatron. Guess he screwed up." He clapped his servos over his mouth, looking up in panic at the Seeker. Skyquake stared down at him blankly.

"You are a Decepticon." It was more a statement than a question, but Breakdown nodded nonetheless. "I see, then... my mind is made up." He nodded confidently.

"Uh, huh?" Breakdown's servos drifted away from his face. Skyquake smiled and got to his pedes, offering his servo to the Stunticon once again, helping him up. He then bent to one knee in front of the blue mech, bowing as if he were some kind of samurai addressing his master.

"My brother, Dreadwing, and I have been debating on whether or not we should join the Decepticons or the Autobots for the upcoming war. However, if the Decepticon army holds such treasures, I would be a fool not to follow." Again, he took his servo and kissed it, Breakdown's systems freaking out once again.

"Phwee!" He squeaked, cheek going bright pink.

"Do you always make that noise when you are embarrassed? It's adorable!"

**Hail to the princess, baby!**


End file.
